A Marsh Wren

On this mild, sunny morning in Littleton, I headed down to South Platte Park to check on the progress of the Front Range waterfowl migration.  Though I encountered most species, the numbers remain low, especially for the end on November; no doubt, climate change is slowing (and may eventually halt) the autumn waterfowl migration.

As it turns out, the highlight of my morning was finding a marsh wren in the cattails along Eaglewatch Lake.  A summer resident across the Northern U.S. and Canada, these reclusive songbirds winter in fresh and saltwater marshes across the Southern U.S., the Desert Southwest and the Pacific Coast.  Here in Metro Denver, they are more common during the warmer months but some remain through the winter.  Consuming a wide variety of insects, spiders and larvae, marsh wrens are known to construct multiple nests in the spring, abandoning most or using them as hideouts.

As veteran birders know, we often set out on field trips with certain expectations (e.g. observing large flocks of waterfowl).  In the end, a single bird may turn out to be the highlight and, today, it was a lone marsh wren. 

A Warm Reception

I returned to our Littleton, Colorado, farm late this morning and was greeted by deep blue skies, crystal-clear air and a temperature of 65 degrees F.  Of course, the dry, clean look of the property and the distant, snow-capped peaks warned that winter is still in charge.

Indeed, such warm respites are common along the Colorado Front Range in winter, often sandwiched between snowstorms.  As I have discussed in the past, the weather in Metro Denver is all about wind direction and we are currently enjoying a southwest, downsloping wind which warms, dries and clears the air in the South Platte Valley.  Since we made it through November (generally our second snowiest month) with only light snow showers, a good upslope snowstorm would be welcomed by most locals.

Our pair of resident collared doves were cooing from a large honeylocust as I stepped from the car this morning.  Perhaps the gorgeous weather has made them think of spring (as fickle as that season often is in Colorado).

Flashback Post XXVI

On this Black Friday, a title that seems more than appropriate, I am reminded of a post that I published back in December, 2010.

See: Merry Consumption! 

Thanks on behalf of Nature

On this annual day of Thanksgiving, it is appropriate to thank those who have donated property to conservation organizations; as relentless human "development" gobbles up natural ecosystems, their gifts are especially valuable.  Among those who deserve our thanks are Herb and Joan Domke; now deceased, they donated their farm in New Bloomfield, Missouri, to the Prairie Garden Trust.

Stretching along and atop the east wall of the Hillers Creek Valley, the preserve is a mosaic of forest, prairie, wetlands and ponds, accessed by a fine network of trails.  Open to the public from April through October (though permission must be requested in advance), we were granted off-season access yesterday.

We enjoyed a two hour walk through the refuge, encountering the usual mix of winter songbirds and a flock of wild turkeys along the way.  Several overlooks offer spectacular views of the Hillers Creek gorge and we were pleased to discover that Mississippian limestone within the creek bed harbors ancient coral fossils (see photo).  Our personal thanks to the Domkes for donating the property and to the Prairie Garden Trust for protecting and managing this oasis of native natural habitat.

 

 

The Productive Mammal

Most humans take pride in being productive.  Throughout their waking hours, they stay active, attending to their career, family chores, hobbies, exercise, social media and other modern duties.  Unlike our distant ancestors, who faced more physical challenges but likely had less stressful lives, modern humans often eschew "down time;" taking time to relax and let our minds wander is relegated to the rare vacation.

But regular periods of solitude, relaxation and unforced thought are, in my opinion, healthy; better yet,, these respites augment creativity and make us more productive in the long run.  Our brains, essentially complex computers, are bombarded with data throughout the day and require adequate sleep to function properly; the addition of rest periods, when we purposefully shut-off unnatural, external input, expands that physiologic recovery .

No doubt, some will question or even criticize our need for down time but, those of us who relish it, recognize its benefits.  Constantly doing something does not equate to productivity. 

The Cost of Oil

Primarily for political reasons, President Biden decided to tap the Strategic Oil Reserve today, thereby hoping to check the recent rising price of gasoline and to combat inflation; the latter, of course, is expected as we recover from the economic impacts of the pandemic.

Most experts seem to believe that Biden's decision will have a minimal impact on the cost of gas, especially due to the increasing demand associated with travel during the Holidays.  Some of us wonder why we are worrying about the price of oil at a time when we are attempting to reduce our dependence on fossil fuels.

Oil has an economic price but it also has an environmental one.  If higher oil prices reduce its use, all the better.  Furthermore, clean energy becomes more attractive as the price of oil rises.  In the end, it is best for all of us if we reduce our use of fossil fuels; higher oil prices should incentivize that behavior.

The Vulture Cliffs

Just southeast of the University of Missouri, in Columbia, Hinkson Creek has carved a wall of steep, Mississippian limestone cliffs, now protected within Capen Park.  A trail leads through forest atop those cliffs, offering rocky overlooks along the way.  For the first time in twenty years, my wife and I visited those clifftops today.

Other than broad views of the Park, Hinkson Creek and other nearby landscapes, the trail provides a close-up interaction with dozens, if not hundreds, of turkey vultures that nest on the cliffs and roost in trees on the steep valley wall (photo by Darcy Folzenlogen).

Common summer residents across the Lower 48 and southern Canada, turkey vultures winter in the southern U.S. (including central Missouri), Central America, Caribbean Islands and South America.  They feed primarily on fresh carrion, which they locate with their exceptional sense of smell and by watching the activity of their fellow vultures.  While not attractive birds (unlike most raptors), their effortless soaring ability is admired by anyone who visits open-country habitats. 

Our Avian Magnet Tree

A modest-sized eastern redcedar stands just northwest of our house and, this year, it is loaded with berries.  As a result, local birds are swarming to its natural bounty.

Of course, American robins dominate the scene and I counted at least 200 in or near the tree this morning.  Cedar waxwings are also regular visitors, generally arriving in flocks of 12 to 24 individuals.  Other species, while not necessarily fans of juniper berries, are drawn by the activity; house finches and American goldfinches seem to be especially curious.  Then there are the blue jays, our avian constables, turning up to complain about the noisy congestion and to make sure that they are not missing out on a convenient source of food.

While the feast has already lasted for a several weeks, plenty of berries remain.  As naturalists know, planting trees can produce multiple benefits: beautifying your property, re-wilding the landscape, combating climate change and attracting a rich diversity of wildlife.  Plant trees and lose some lawn!! 

A Menacing Wind

It was a beautiful morning at Phillips Lake, in southeast Columbia.  Bright sunshine pushed the late morning temperature into the upper 40s (F); unfortunately, a strong northwest wind made my walk much less enjoyable and all but eliminated birding opportunities.

As I have discussed in the past, strong wind and heavy rain are the two weather factors that most interfere with bird activity, forcing them to take cover until conditions improve.  The temperature itself is rarely a factor and snow or light rain do not keep them in the shrubs or thickets; I suppose ice storms might be mentioned but they generally pose more of a problem for the birders than the birds.

No waterfowl were observed amidst the wind-driven waves and only a handful of songbird species were encountered, all in a sheltered ravine.  A lone turkey vulture was the only bird that clearly relished the turbulent air and, despite my hopeful reasoning, migrant snow geese were not taking advantage of the powerful tail wind.  Exercise and fresh air turned out to be the only rewards this morning.

A Break in the Shooting

Today, a friend and I visited Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area during the two-hour window when duck hunters are required to take a break and when birders are free to hunt for waterfowl and other avian species with their binoculars.  As it turned out, on this cloudy, cool, damp afternoon, there were few hunters or birders at the refuge.

We did see more than 4000 individual birds during our one hour visit but almost all of them were mallards, American coot or red-winged blackbirds.  A few great blue herons stalked the shallows and a small number of gadwall and pied-billed grebes joined the coot and mallards.  Of most interest were the raptors, represented by an immature bald eagle, three red-tailed hawks, a sharp-shinned hawk and a rough-legged hawk; the latter buteo is a common winter resident on the High Plains but not often encountered here in central Missouri.

We had hoped to see migrant snow geese and greater white-fronted geese during our visit to the Missouri River floodplain but none were observed.  It seems that their autumn journey through this region is later each year, just another sign that our climate is warming. 

Naive Assumptions

As young adults, we humans tend to be self-confident.  We have life by the tail and understand how it works.  In concert, we make many assumptions: how our career will unfold, whom we will marry, where we will live and when we will die, among many others.  Of course, we are blinded by our innocence and often come to find that those assumptions, inspired by freedom and optimism, are often not accurate. 

As we mature (a nice word for age), we develop a more nuanced view of life, molded by personal experience and the testimony of others.  We are less likely to make assumptions and we undertake change with caution.  The wisdom that comes with age guides both the careful choices that we make and the advice that we offer to the young.

Yet, we admire the spontaneity of youth and miss the freedom of those early years.  But, as the lyrics of a popular song suggest, "we wish we didn't know now what we didn't know then."  Life's lessons are not always easy to accept and discarding the assumptions of our youth is a task that is never quite complete. 

Travel & Destination

In my experience, we humans are either travel-focused or destination-focused.  The latter group are almost exclusively interested in their destination, whether it be a city, a beach, a ski resort or some other specific location.  For them, travel is an inconvenience that must be endured and they are happy to sleep through it if possible; they choose aisle seats on airlines, snooze on trains and prefer that others drive the car so they can read, surf the internet or sleep.

Travelers, on the other hand, enjoy the journey as much as the destination.  We want to experience the topography, geography and ecosystems through which we travel.  We want to know what rivers we cross, what mountains rise in the distance and what wildlife we might expect to see.  Our destination is not an isolated location but one that fits within the surrounding landscape.

In general, travelers are more likely to value the health of our natural environment and thus more inclined to commit themselves to its conservation.  When we understand the interdependence of a destination with its climate, weather, hydrology and ecosystem, we see far more than its urban delights, its scenery and its recreational opportunities.  Our planet needs more travelers.

The Mines of Spain

Arriving in Dubuque, Iowa, by early afternoon, we decided to explore The Mines of Spain State Recreation Area, just south of downtown Dubuque.  Spreading across 1380 acres, the preserve commemorates the home of the Mesquakie Tribe, the original European settlement in Iowa and the regional lead mining industry that extended from the reign of the Mesquakie to the early 1900s.  Julien Dubuque, granted the land by the Governor of Spain, lived here, married the daughter of the Mesquakie Chief and is buried beneath a memorial tower that overlooks the Mississippi Valley.

The present Recreation Area offers 10 trail loops through forest, fields and wetlands.  One of these, an interpretive trail, leads through an abandoned channel of the Mississippi River (photo) where the Silurian cliffs were the site of much of the galena (iron ore) mining.

We did not have time to explore the rest of the preserve but did stop by the Julien Dubuque Memorial before leaving.  With all due respect to this adventurous man, one cannot escape the fact that his settlement represented the beginning of the decimation of Iowa's natural ecosystems, a process that has occurred throughout the country and across the globe.   

Following the Wisconsin River

Yesterday, heading back to Missouri from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, we elected to drive southward through central Wisconsin.  Picking up US 45 in Ontonagon, we crossed the Eastern Continental Divide near the Wisconsin border and entered the watershed of the Wisconsin River.  Several miles south of the border, we crossed the river for the first time and followed it southward through the Glaciated Plain of the Badger State.

After crossing the Eagle and Pelican Rivers, upper tributaries of the Wisconsin, we angled westward to join the main channel.  Heading southward on US 51, we paralleled  the River and crossed it several times before reaching Portage, Wisconsin.  There the Wisconsin River turns westward and we switched to Route 78 to follow its course.  Both the river and the highway soon entered the scenic "Driftless Area" of the State, characterized by forested hills and pastoral valleys.  At Merrimac, we enjoyed a magnificent view of Lake Wisconsin (a reservoir on the river since 1914) and soon reached the attractive towns of Prairie du Sac and Sauk City on the north bank of the Wisconsin.  There we crossed the river for the final time, heading toward Dubuque, Iowa, where we would spend the night.

The Wisconsin itself continues to flow westward, joining the Mississippi just south of Prairie du Chien.  Approximately 420 miles in length, it is both the longest and the largest river in the State and passes through many reservoirs along its course.  It certainly provided a beautiful natural corridor for our journey.

Bad Luck, Nothing More

Those who follow this Blog have surely guessed by now that my wife and I failed to see the Aurora borealis.  After all, I would have crowed about the experience and posted colorful photos of the spectacle. But why were we unsuccessful?

Some might mention fate.  Others might declare that it was God's will.  Still others, especially regular patrons of the Blog, might wonder if it was divine retribution for my frequent rants about mysticism.  But it was just bad luck, nothing more.  We were at the right place at the wrong time.

We are certainly disappointed but life is too short to dwell on missed opportunities.  Perhaps we will try again if we have the chance.  Then again, I might die before seeing the Northern Lights but I can live with that.

Ruffed Grouse

During our week of hiking on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, we found that the northern forests are relatively quiet in November.  Of course, most of the summer songbirds have departed for warmer climes, taking their musical voices with them.

Blue jays were the most vocal permanent residents, their raucous calls echoing through the forest, and we encountered the occasional flock of chickadees and nuthatches.  Woodpeckers were seemingly on vacation and red squirrels were the only vocal mammals, especially if we got too close to their winter cache.  On the other hand, ruffed grouse were rather common, usually flushing from the forest undergrowth as we approached.

Permanent residents across Alaska, Canada, the northern U.S. and southward through the mountain corridors, ruffed grouse are medium-sized game birds, perhaps best known for the male's distinctive "drumming" in early spring.  Females often have young in tow during the summer months but these grouse tend to be solitary for most of the year.  Usually found in mixed forests, they feed on a wide variety of seeds, nuts, insects and buds.  It was certainly a pleasure to observe them this week, however brief our encounters. 

Back to the Porcupines

Ten years after our first visit, we returned to the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park today.  Rising up from the southern coast of Lake Superior, about 15 miles west of Ontonagon, these weathered mountains offer scenic views, excellent day hikes and the opportunity for wilderness backpacking.  Wolves, moose and black bear are among the wild residents of this 60,000 acre Park.

This morning, we chose the Escarpment Trail for our first hike; the most popular trail in the Park, it yields spectacular views of the Big Carp River Valley, including the Lake of the Clouds (see photo).  Undulating along the north rim of the valley, the route leads to several rocky overlooks.

Our second hike was a gradual climb on the Union Spring Trail, which follows and crosses the Union River up through its valley, on the east edge of the Park.  We set our sights on a beaver-created wetland (photo), about 1.5 miles from the trailhead.  Other hikes are planned for tomorrow.

Down the Peninsula

After three nights of failing to observe the Aurora borealis from Brockway Mountain, we zigzagged down the Keweenaw Peninsula today, initially crossing to the Big Traverse area of the east coast.  There we enjoyed more scenic views of Lake Superior before heading inland; passing Rice Lake, we encountered a large flock of buffleheads on the calm waters, soon to migrate farther south.

Following a pit stop in Houghton, we drove on to Agate Beach (photo) on the southwest coast of the Peninsula.  Amidst the colorful pebbles along the shore, my wife searched for agates with questionable success.  Meanwhile, I scoured the lake for migrant waterfowl and did observe a large flock of mergansers (common or red-breasted) far offshore.  As has occurred all across the Keweenaw Peninsula, a couple of bald eagles soared above the beach.

Finally, before heading to our cabin east of the Porcupine Mountains, we stopped at a cafe in Ontonagon and took an after dinner walk out to their public beach.  It was there that I encountered a flock of snow buntings, a new species for me.  We still have three nights to catch the Northern Lights but our journey has already been more than rewarding!

North Keweenaw Hikes

Those who visit the northern portion of the Keweenaw Peninsula are encouraged to consider hikes at the following nature sanctuaries.  Both are owned and managed by the Michigan Nature Association.

Grinnell Nature Sanctuary - This preserve stretches along the northeast coast of the Keweenaw Peninsula, a few miles north of Lac La Belle.  A steady climb takes the hiker to spectacular overlooks atop the rocky bluffs, offering broad views of Lake Superior, its coastline and adjacent landscapes.  We recommend that visitors hike the loop trail clockwise and return from the overlooks via the same route; the northern section of the loop is very steep and treacherous.

Estivant Pines Nature Sanctuary - This 510-acre refuge, just SSE of Copper Harbor, offers a double-loop hike through northern mixed forest, including stands of old growth white pine (some of the trees are 500 years old).

Consolation Prizes

Last evening, we left for Brockway Mountain, west of Copper Harbor, about 9 PM, driving slowly to avoid hitting wildlife along the forest-lined road.  In fact, halfway up the mountain, a gray fox crossed our path, the first I had seen in several years.  Atop the ridge, the scene resembled a failing drive-in theater with several cars parked in the unlit lot, awaiting the show.  We slipped into an open space, facing north and overlooking the invisible lake.

While we waited for the Northern Lights to develop, we were more than entertained by a zillion stars in the clear night sky, bisected by the stellar haze of the Milky Way.  Jupiter gleamed from the southwest and numerous meteors streaked across the sky, some quite spectacular and long-lasting.  Then there were the passenger jets, blinking their way across the night sky, no doubt traveling to or from exotic locations.

Our fellow attendees began to give up on the vigil by 11 PM and we were left alone atop Brockway Mountain.  Our final observation was of a large ore ship, its lights shining from the dark expanse of Lake Superior, surely heading for "some mill in Wisconsin."  We descended to Eagle Harbor at midnight, humbled but still optimistic.

Black Creek Nature Sanctuary

Owned by the Michigan Nature Association, the Black Creek Nature Sanctuary lies along the west coast of the Keweenaw Peninsula, northwest of Houghton.  The 242-acre refuge spreads across the watersheds of Black and Hill Creek and is accessed by a trail network that takes the visitor from a parking lot on Cedar Bay Road to a pristine, rocky beach along Lake Superior.

Along the way, the 3 mile route (6 miles roundtrip) passes meadows, beaver ponds and alder swamps before entering a rich forest of pine, birch, sugar maple, cedar and balsam fir.  Nearing the lakeshore, the trail runs along a lagoon where the two creeks merge before draining into the surf.  The Michigan Nature Association reports that moose, wolves and black bears have been sighted in the preserve though, on this sunny, mild day, chatty red squirrels were the only mammals we encountered.

Since the clear skies are forecast to persist through the night, we plan to watch for the Aurora borealis from the summit of Brockway Mountain (1328 feet), just WSW of Copper Harbor.  More on that adventure tomorrow. 

North Country Drive

Heading north from Minneapolis, the foliage gradually changes from typical Midwestern deciduous forest to North Country woodlands of birch, larch and conifers.  After a pit stop in Duluth, we drove eastward on Route 2, crossing northern Wisconsin before entering the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Snow appeared near the State border and coated the landscape for most of our journey to Houghton, halfway up the Keweenaw Peninsula.  Intermittent snow showers enhanced the North Country feel and the temperature held in the lower 30s (F).

Though we watched for moose along the way, none were spotted in the wooded marshlands, stream valleys or pond-dappled meadows.  As is often the case, American crows dominated the bird population but we did see a dozen bald eagles and several flocks of swans (likely trumpeters).  We'll check out Houghton this evening and wait for the cloud cover to dissipate before beginning our Aurora borealis vigils.

From Lincoln to Minneapolis

We left Lincoln, Nebraska, this morning in a pea-soup fog that shrouded our drive all the way to the Iowa border.  Though we crossed the Platte and Missouri Rivers, we could not see those streams due to the dense mist.

Entering Iowa, we were greeted with clearing skies and a barred owl that drifted across the highway in the early morning light.  Undulating across the hills of western Iowa, we were pleased to see that regional farmers have terraced their hillside fields, reducing soil erosion, minimizing water use and providing natural cover for wildlife.  We also encountered a large wind farm, just the first of many that we passed across the State; indeed, Iowa is one of the leading States in the per-capita use of wind-generated electricity.

Once we reached Des Moines, we headed north on Interstate 35, crossing the flat terrain of the Glaciated Plain; only the Iowa River carves a significant dent in the landscape.  Farther north, we detoured eastward to Frontenac State Park (in southeast Minnesota) which sprawls across a ridge on the west wall of the Mississippi River Valley.  There we enjoyed spectacular views of Lake Pepin (formed by damming the River; see photo) and of river bluffs across the valley; a special treat was provided by 100 or more American white pelicans, lounging on a sand spit that juts into the lake.  After a night in Minneapolis, we'll head for Houghton, Michigan, tomorrow.

First Snowy Landscape

Though we have observed the snowy peaks of the Front Range from Denver, we were not enveloped in a snowy landscape until this morning, the first such experience this season.  Traveling northeast from Denver on Interstate 76, we reached the snow line at Sterling, Colorado.  From that location until we reached Grand Isle, Nebraska, a snowy landscape flanked the highway.

Just south of the snow line, flocks of longspurs swooped across the roadway, disappearing into the scrub grasslands of Northeast Colorado; a squadron of sharp-tailed grouse also streaked across the highway.  Once we entered the snowy terrain, bird sightings were limited, especially due to the low, gray overcast and persistent light mist;  Canada geese and American crows were the primary representatives.

Unfortunately, the dense cloud cover also eliminated the opportunity to observe migrating sandhill cranes, one of my specific goals for today's leg of the journey; though I scoured the fields for resting flocks, none we're observed.  We'll spend the night in Lincoln and head to Minneapolis tomorrow.